


Clean and Green and Pretty

by Em_313



Series: The Storyteller (Young Jack) [6]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: AU, Childhood, Evelyn Kelly, Gen, Ireland, Sickfic, Sort of in universe?, mother/son relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_313/pseuds/Em_313
Summary: Jack can’t sleep and neither can his mom. (Out of cannon)A re-write of my one-shot "The City's Finally Sleeping"
Series: The Storyteller (Young Jack) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1258640
Kudos: 6





	Clean and Green and Pretty

**March 1895**

**Jack almost 13, Ciara almost 12, Molly 8**

Jack woke up coughing. He didn’t even open his eyes as he rolled over and muffled the sound into his pillow. _Can’t wake anyone._ He thought. 

He sniffled, which made his throat hurt worse, and he was freezing. The fire must have died down in the little coal stove. The floor was cold on his bare feet as he stumbled off his pallet. His little sisters were sprawled out on the bed next to him.

Jack tiptoed across the main room to the kitchen and opened the cabinet for a glass. Another coughing fit took over him, rattling in his chest and ripping his throat like sandpaper. 

“Jack?” A soft voice said behind him. He jumped. His mother put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Are ya still not feeling well?”

“Did I wake you?” Jack asked hoarsely. 

“Oh, no, no,” Evelyn said. “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” She was an inch or two shorter than him now. Her cool, soft fingers pushed his hair back from his forehead, and she studied his sleepy green eyes for a long moment. “I don’t think you have a fever,” she said. 

“I’m fine, Ma.” He doubled over coughing again.

“Boy, sit down.” 

Jack sat down at the kitchen table and sleepily propped his head up on his fist. Evelyn lit a lamp, then filled the tea kettle with water and lit the stove. 

“Tea will make us feel better,” she said. She sat down across from him and reached for his bangs again. Jack flinched away. “Ya need a haircut.”

Jack sighed, which made him cough again. “My throat really hurts,” he admitted. 

Evelyn shook her head. “Ya just can’t get ya self well, huh?” She took his hand, and Jack let her. 

The tea kettle began to steam, and Evelyn leapt up before it whistled and woke the girls. Molly rolled over but didn’t awaken. Evelyn fixed two cups of tea and handed one to Jack. He took a drink. “Oh, that’s good,” he said. 

His mother sat down next to him with her own mug cradled in her hands. “I put honey in it for ya,” she said. He leaned his head against her soft shoulder, and let her play with his hair. They drank their tea. 

Evelyn chuckled suddenly. “I coulda done what my da did,” she said.

“What?”

“My brother, Danny, got pneumonia when I was...goodness, a wee little lass, probably t’ree or four. Would’ve made him about sixteen. Anyways, he was awful sick, and my da thought a shot of Jameson would help. Well, Danny took it and threw it right back up. Da just laughed and laughed at him.” She shook her head. “Don’t know why I remembered that just now.” 

Jack coughed into his fist again. “Why are you awake?” He asked. 

“Thinkin’”

“What about?” 

“Night time is good for dreamin’ ‘bout all kinds of things,” she said. “I guess I’m thinking of Ireland tonight.”

“Do ya miss it?”

Evelyn nodded. “All the time.” She set her mug down. “Know what I miss the most? I miss seeing the sky and the stars and the earth.” 

“Really?”

“A storin,” she said. _My little treasure_. She hadn’t called him that in years. “You’ve lived in the big city all ya days. Ya can’t even imagine so much grass and land and sky. It stretches out as far as the eye can see.”

“Clean and green and pretty, right?”

“Aye, clean and green and pretty,” she said. “The heavens declare the glory of God. The heavens, Jack. Not the street lamps and the crowds and the factory smoke.”

“Maybe...maybe we’ll go back someday,” Jack said. 

“Maybe we will,” Evelyn said. “You’d love ya cousins. Brennan’s youngest, Finley, reminds me an awful lot of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said. “He’s a protector, like you are to ya sisters. He’s artsy and watchful like you are.” 

Jack finished his drink. It coated his sore throat and made him feel warm and sleepy. “Is he my age?” He asked.

“Finley? No,” Evelyn said. “No, remember, my siblings are much older than me. I was…about 11 or 12 when Finley was born, so he’d be nearly 23 now. Likely has babies of his own.” She shook her head. “Mercy.” 

“Do ya wish you’d stayed?”

“No,” Evelyn said. She stroked Jack’s hair again. “No, because then I wouldn’t have met ya father. I wouldn’t have had you or ya sisters. We wouldn’t be here.” 

Jack closed his eyes and tried to see the sky, the stars, and the miles and miles of rich, green mountainsides that had filled his mother’s childhood. But he couldn’t picture it. 

“We’ll get out of the city someday, lad,” Evelyn whispered. “At least I hope you do.” 

Jack’s eyes were still closed. “That’d be nice,” he said. “That’d be real nice.”

Evelyn kissed his head. “Ya sound better,” she said. “Why don’t you go back to bed? You’ll never shake that cold if you’re up all night.” 

Jack nodded. “Thanks, Mama.” 

**Author's Note:**

> "City's Finally Sleeping" with Jack and his mentor/friend Tubgoat is my favorite young Jack one-shot I've done, and I started imagining what if his family was still alive then. I actually just really wanted to see Jack and his mama together, okay? (I wrote this on a plane while hella sleep deprived)


End file.
